Roses and Whine
by SlashAddict
Summary: Is Ken hiding something? Probably. (r&r and i'll give you a cookie ^_^; as yet unfinished, gomen nasai!)
1. A Day in the Life of a Chick Magnet

Ken sighed as he watered the flowers. It was seven-fifty. The shop would open in ten minutes. He'd be buried under   
a deluge of wide-eyed teenagers. Aya, calm as ever, was carefully arranging his precious   
and very expensive ikebana. Yohji was sitting at the table in the back, doing the bookkeeping. Omi smiled as   
he tossed together bright bouquets of fresh wildflowers. And Ken sprayed the roses, his hand shaking slightly   
with dread.  
  
Really, why couldn't more of them have crushes on Omi instead? At least he was their age. Casting a glance at him,   
Ken couldn't guess why any girl wouldn't fawn all over him. He was easily the most accessible and friendly   
member of Weiss. With that unruly blond mop and backwards hat, he was the picture of innocence.   
  
Of course, Omi was far from innocent. They all were.  
  
Ken shrugged at the roses and continued to water them. "You know what I mean?" he asked them, not really   
expecting an answer.  
  
"No, what do you mean, Ken-kun?"  
  
Ken jumped about a foot in the air and dropped the spritzer bottle. The contents spilled on the floor.   
Trying not to catch Aya's steely glare, he grabbed the nearby mop and wiped the fertilizer-water mixture from   
the tile before it began to stink too much. "Just talking to the roses, Omi. They like it a lot, you know." He smiled.  
  
Omi laughed, a high, musical sound to Ken's ears. "Of course! Everyone knows that!" He lowered his voice a bit.   
"Even Aya-kun mutters at his ikebana. He thinks no one notices, but I hear him." He grinned at Ken, blowing   
away the rain cloud that had been hovering over his head for the past half-hour.  
  
"Omi, Ken. Get to your stations. We're opening." Aya's baritone voice penetrated the air like one of Omi's arrows.   
  
Omi hopped over to his area and Ken picked up the fallen bottle. Steeling himself for the entourage of the many girls,   
he finished spraying the roses and moved on to chrysanthemums.   
  
Yohji unlocked the door and was practically bowled over by the usual crowd of teenage gawkers. He just suavely   
brushed the dust off his black shirt and enjoyed the attention a good dozen girls were all too happy to give. "Now,   
all of you girls who are over 18."  
  
Ken stopped listening there because he too was surrounded by a crowd of very attractive girls. They all wore   
similar uniforms and had hiked their skirts up to varying heights. He could smell the hairspray-he could always   
tell who had spent time on their hair and makeup. Some girls went to the length of false eyelashes and great deals   
of blush. Ken didn't really go for that type. They looked they just stepped off the cover of a magazine. Not fresh or   
sweet. They didn't really interest Ken.  
  
None of these girls interested Ken.  
  
Girls didn't interest Ken.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't like them. He certainly enjoyed their company. Some of his best friends in high school,   
before he dropped out, were the girls on the female soccer team. They were stimulating conversation. He'd gotten   
into countless arguments over the best brand of cleats and the best way for a goalie to catch a ball with one very   
kind black-haired girl.  
  
He smiled, thinking of Kyoko. She'd been his friend for a long time, since elementary school. Since he left to play for   
J-League, they found it harder to stay in touch, and when he was thrown out, he lost all contact whatsoever with her.   
"I really should call her," he said to no one in particular.  
  
One of the girls squealed. "Ken-kun's going to call me!" It was just then that he realized that, while being lost in his   
own head, one of the girls had slipped her phone number towards him.  
  
Ken paled, then blushed. "No, Sakuya, I, um." He looked at her. She looked back at him with shining, hopeful eyes.   
"I mean, uh." He sweatdropped. "What time will you be home?"  
  
~*~  
  
Ken set the phone in its cradle. Glaring at it, he hoped to set it on fire. Alas, he had no such luck.  
  
He hoped he'd never have to make a call like that again. It had been awful. Painful was a better word to describe it.  
  
First he'd talked to Sakuya's parents, who had been extremely curious as to why a twenty-year-old man was   
calling their daughter. Ken tried to keep his voice calm as he explained to the very obviously worried mother that he   
was merely her friend. But the mother would hear none of this. Finally he sighed and asked to speak with Sakuya.   
Begrudgingly, the mother agreed, but the conversation with Sakuya was extremely uncomfortable and after about fifteen   
seconds of silence Ken made up an excuse to leave-Omi needed his help in the kitchen. Omi, who had happened to   
walk into the living room when Ken said this, had to stifle giggles as Ken apologized to Sakuya for leaving so soon and  
hung up.   
  
"You know, Ken-kun, lying doesn't solve any problems. It just creates more," Omi said sagely in between fits of laughter.   
"Besides, why would I want your help in the kitchen? Everyone knows I'm a better cook than you." He smiled, and Ken   
caught a slight twinkle in Omi's earnest blue eyes.  
  
"Only because no one will give me a chance! That fire only happened once.and the fish was still edible." Ken vividly  
remembered the kitchen after he'd tried to cook dinner for the other three. "But I guess the noodles were ruined."  
  
"Ken-kun, they were black and when you threw them out they scattered ash on the floor." Omi went to the kitchen.   
"Oi, you want anything?"  
  
"Hm.apple juice would be good." He lay along the couch with his feet on a blue pillow. Relaxing completely, he felt   
the vertebrae in his back creak in several places. He groaned. It felt painful, but the cracking released tension as well.   
"Erg.ooh."  
  
"Make yourself comfortable, Ken-kun." Omi chuckled as he set Ken's juice on the table-under a coaster, of course-and   
plopped into the beige La-Z-Boy to the right of Ken's head.   
  
"I should think I would. After all, it is my house."  
  
"Actually, it's Aya-kun's, seeing as how he does all of the work. I think he's dusting in our bedrooms right now."   
Omi sipped his Juicy-Juice.  
  
Ken stared disbelievingly for a second, then leapt up from the couch, spilling his juice all over the fine Corinthian leather.  
"Aw, shit.Aya's gonna kill me.whatever, Omi, I gotta go, can you take care of this for me?" Without waiting for an   
answer, Ken dashed up the stairs, muttering to himself.  
  
Omi watched him go, then got some paper towels and began to clean up the couch. *Urk.Aya-kun won't be very   
happy.but I guess that's our Ken-kun.charmingly klutzy.* Omi lingered on that thought for a second, smiling lightly,   
and continued the pointless task of attempting to clean the sofa. Stains stuck out so nastily on the white cushion.  
  
~*~  
  



	2. Real Men Wear Plaid

  
Roses and Whine, part 2: Joe Boxer vs. The Dust Bunnies from Planet Ken  
  
~*~  
  
Author's note: Thanks to everyone for their kind r&r! ::huggles them all:: ^_^ Oh, yes, for  
everyone, here are your cookies. ::tosses warm, gooey chocolate-chip cookies to everyone  
who reads and reviews on a regular basis:: Oh yeah, I kinda forgot to mention the this will   
eventually be shonen-ai? Eh heh...but if you're reading Weiss Kreuz, let's all hope you  
don't have any problems with male/male relationships. Ken/Omi, however, may be considered  
somewhat of an acquired taste...Please enjoy Ken/Omi responsibly, and remember, friends always  
let friends write fanfics really late at night, because that's when it's really funny. ^_^   
Joking, joking...designated writers are the life of the party ^_^ hope you like part 2!  
  
  
~*~  
  
Ken cursed at himself as he jumped up the stairs three at a time. How could he be so   
careless?! He swung his door open and heaved a sigh of relief. The fine coat of dust was   
still over everything.  
  
Ken grabbed the boxers that were casually laid over the arm of his desk chair. He snatched   
them and held them tightly in his hands, staring at the slightly faded plaid pattern before   
he crouched down and stuffed them under his bed.  
  
"What are you doing."  
  
Ken jolted at the voice. He turned to see Aya leaning against the doorframe, watching him   
with amusement in his eyes. "I, uh," he began. "I, um, was, uh...putting my laundry away!"  
  
Aya stared. "Under your bed."  
  
Ken nodded eagerly. "Yep. Best place for it, keeps all the dust bunnies away!" He laughed   
mildly and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
The purple-eyed man gave him a cold glare, then proceeded to lightly dust the room with an   
ostrich-feathered stick. With one last frigid glance, he left the room and Ken exhaled,   
only then realizing he'd been holding his breath the entire time. The room's temperature   
seemed to drop a few degrees when Aya was in it. He glared at his door, trying to shoot   
lasers at Aya, but it didn't work. *Fucking bastard. I hate his guts.* But even as he   
thought the words, he knew they weren't true.  
  
He fished out the boxers from under his bed, fumbling around behind the dust ruffle before   
retrieving them successfully. Leaning back against the bed, he sighed. He stared at the   
ceiling and fingered the warm flannel absently. Looking at the name tag for the millionth   
time, he wondered who could possibly have written their name in their underwear so badly.   
They all did it so as not to get their undergarments confused, but he'd never seen this   
signature before.  
  
  
It wasn't like Ken was too shy to ask. It was just that he knew that if he did, he'd never   
live it down. He shuddered involuntarily, thinking of the jokes Yohji would crack. "Why are   
you hanging on to some guy's underwear when you don't even know whose it is?! Geez, Ken, I   
never took you for one of *those* types. Omi, sure, but..." Then Omi would punch Yohji   
good-naturedly on the shoulder and they'd all laugh. A familiar ending, but foreign boxers   
had never been a factor, and Ken decided that these boxers would stay in his room unless   
one of the others came round looking for them. Which was unlikely, since they would   
probably fear the consequences just as much as he did.  
  
Ken realized he was rambling to himself again. He flicked himself lightly on the temple.   
Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was almost 11 PM. He yawned, only then realizing how   
tired he was. With a heaving sigh, he stripped down to his own Joe Boxers (with the smiley   
face) and crawled under the sheets on his ever-soft mattress. He thought fleetingly of Omi   
before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
*Hope he didn't have to spend too much time on that juice.*  
  
~*~  



End file.
